Unintentionally Attractive
by Silver Ink Pen
Summary: After a series of strange situations, Alfred accidentally turns himself into eye candy. How do the nations handle a sexy America? Well, they can't. Somebody hold France back. (Summary does NOT suck.)


**I do not own Hetalia.**

~.~.~.~.

The sun was setting on the top of the hills off in the distance, rinsing the city before the twin mounds of earth in an orange glow. Within the city, a pair of personifications known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the United States of America, otherwise referred to as England and America, were seated in the living room of a large mansion, belonging to the Brit. The older country looked highly annoyed, as was his usual attitude when he was forced to be around his former colony, but the younger nation had the disposition of a six year old on Christmas morning, all smiles and laughter as he ignored his comrade's rather gloomy features.

"Oh, will you belt up already?" England, otherwise known as Arthur, growled to the laughing boy.

"But it was funny!" America insisted, slapping his knee in delight. "I should write another joke book!"

"No!" England declared as he sat up on the couch with an authoritive glare towards the younger of the two.

America did not seem to care about England's thoughts on the subject as he let his mind wander to think up all of the old jokes he had invented over the past few years. He had to clear out his current important thoughts that were floating around in his head,_ Tell Belgium her waffle recipe was awesome, bring Belarus that poison-dipped rose, actually remember to grab a briefcase for the next World Meeting, tell Tony to park his spaceship elsewhere,_ to make room for some good old-fashioned corny humor. His blue eyes sparkled every time a good joke popped up and he mentally checked it as one to add to the book.

England glanced at America before standing to his feet and making his way to the kitchen. He needed a cup of tea to nurse his headache. He also needed America to stay one thousand miles away to keep him from getting another one anytime soon. Well, France would have to skip out, too if he really wanted his headache to be gone forever.

Realizing that life was not always fair, he let out a sigh and began the process of preparing himself a hot cup of tea.

"Hey, Iggy!" the American called from the living room, "how about this one! Did the disappointed smoker get everything he wanted for Christmas?"

"Alfred..."

"Close, but no cigar!" After this, the nation of freedom through back his head and laughed loudly. "Good, huh?"

England knocked his forehead on the cabinet above him.

"Ooh! Ooh! How about this! What do you call the sound a dog makes when it's choking on a piece of jewelry?"

The kettle began whistling and England used this temporary distraction to give himself a reason not to answer the idiot in the next room.

"A diamond in the ruff!"

Howls of laughter followed after this exclamation and the Brit had to tell himself to breathe deeply and count to ten before he responded to America.

"Here's another one!"

But England, who had grabbed a bowl of fruit from out of the refrigerator to snack from, slammed the bowl on the counter and shouted, "If I hear one more lame joke out of you—"

"Did you hear about the sensitive burglar?"

England yelped when he turned around and saw that America had manifested directly behind him and was talking loudly into his ear.

"America, don't you dare!" he exclaimed.

"He takes things personally!"

In a fit of rage, England grabbed a handful of the fruit in his bowl and threw it at the American, who had taken a few steps back and away from the angry Brit when he saw his arm move. Unfortunately, he had been laughing so hard that his reflexes were rather poor and the blackberries hit him in the face, chest, arm, and side.

Now it was England's turn to laugh as he saw America's face go from gleeful to horrified in a split second when the younger realized that his favorite jacket was covered in purple stains. The tips of his bangs also had the dark juice dripping from them and sliding down his nose.

His laughter died down when America straightened up, keeping his head down enough to block his eyes from sight. Slowly, the nation lifted a hand to remove Texas from his face.

"America?" England asked, a bit wary of the lack of reaction from the boy.

"Do you know how long I have had this jacket, Arthur?"

The use of his human name and the coldness in his voice alerted England to the fact that he had just made a very big mistake.

"Umm..."

"Since World War II, Arthur. World War II." America took a step closer to the Brit.

England, who was up against the counter, could not move any farther back.

With careful and precise movements, America removed the stained jacket and held it up in front of him, his eyes still hidden from sight as the purple liquid streaked his tan face, dripping off of his chin and on to the floor.

"I love this jacket, Arthur." His voice just seemed to get deeper and colder the more he spoke, revealing to England that he was highly upset about the current turn of events, despite what his calm bodily posture said.

England opened his mouth to apologize for the ruination of the boy's jacket, but America never gave him the chance. With one swift arm movement, the brown leather bomber jacket was thrown at the Englishman.

England fumbled to catch the apparel, ignoring the fact that pressing the jacket to him would place blackberry stains on the close he wore now.

"I want it clean. And I mean sparkling."

With that, America raised his head and let England see one glinting blue eye, the anger and seriousness of the situation communicating quickly through one look.

Then America walked away, eventually leaving the house and England behind.

~.~.~.~.

"How upset could he be over one jacket, _mon ami?_" France asked from where he lounged in the chair beside England, the former empire slumping in his seat with his head face down on the conference table.

"That jacket does mean a lot to him..." England trailed off, still traumatized by the side of America he had been subjected to.

It was nerve-wracking to know that there were so many layers of America that he had not seen, but he supposed he should have expected as much. The nation's culture was basically a mix of every culture in existence thrown haphazardly into one country and stirred together to make a brand new way of life that still had remnants of its originals showing. This caused Alfred to have a rather complicated list of personalities that would only show themselves in certain situations. While his usual boisterous attitude and proud, happy-go-lucky disposition was seen ninety percent of the time, that other ten percent of him was separated into many different characteristics that liked to take control of the American in the most inopportune times.

England, as well as most of the older countries such as China andRussia, were well aware of the fact that America was basically a time bomb. Not of one of them knew when one of his more vicious sides would decide to dominate.

And it scared them.

Which is why England was so nervous about the appearance of America, whenever the nation decided to make his appearance. Being late seemed like a trending fashion over the ocean, and Alfred was a common follower of this trend. The Brit pondered over what mood Alfred might be in. He could have forgotten about whatever had happened the previous day, having gone back to his normal self. He could still be mad and decide to pick a fight with his old rival, Russia. Or, he might not show up at all, still stewing and pouting over the loss of his favorite jacket while curled up in his blankets in bed.

But of all the things that the former empire was expecting for the American to display, they were far away from what the nation actually did.

When the doors to the World Meeting room opened, no one gave a second glance, not even England. Why? Because they had been opened normally, not thrown off their hinges by an idiot who did not know how to control his strength, which meant it was not America.

The Brit sat up after a moment's thought, realizing that America might be in his gloomy mood and therefore did not resort to his usual door-opening tactics. With a nervous gulp, he turned around in his seat to get a glimpse of his former colony.

His jaw dropped, hanging open wide as his eyes went white, eyebrows shooting up in the air at the sight before him. His entire body froze and warmed up all at once, causing him to give a shiver.

"Bloody hell," was all he could say as his face flushed crimson.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and grabbed on to France's sleeve, giving it a rough yank as he pointed to the door with his other trembling hand.

"What is it, _mon ami_... ah..."

The blond Frenchman trailed off as he locked on to the same target that had his rival so captivated. He took in a gasp and let out a soft, _"Ooh la la~"_ aquiring a similar blush across his face that adorned England, though his sigh was slightly more lustful than that of his British companion.

A set of steady footsteps caught the atention of every other nation in the room, and a muted gasp silenced them all as they cast their eyes upon the personification of the United States of America.

Due to the fact that he did not like wearing much of anything without his precious bomber jacket, America had gone through every outfit in the suitcase he had brought with him to London before realizing that none of them would work. He felt incomplete without his jacket and that caused irritation. When he was irritated, he did not feel like dealing with annoying people. Well aware of the fact that if he should show up looking only half-presentable England would give him a fit, America decided to just wear that suit his boss had gotten him a while back that he never wore.

So here he stood, in a charcoal black suit, tailored to fit his shape and trimming his figure perfectly. The jacket of the suit showed off his well-built shoulders, which were not as broad as Germany's but definitely could not be considered feminine. The matching vest outlined his waist and the crisp white dress shirt lightened the look. It was the color of the tie, a deep blood red instead of the usual bright scarlet, that gave the outfit a splash of color but a sense of intrigue as well.

Under one arm was his grey overcoat, since the weather here in London was slightly unpredictable but usually rainy, and in his other hand was his briefcase.

Adding to this incredibly dashing apparel adorning the nation, America had truly outdone himself with his hairstyle. Due to how long the blackberry juice had remained in his hair, he was given no choice but to trim the locks of golden yellow that had been stained a dark purple. Quite thankfully, Nantucket had remained clean. But he could not get the rest of his hair to look right with the shorter bangs, so he was forced to slick half of it back and pin down his ahoge with an X-shaped barrette, leaving only the left side of his bangs falling into his face, partially covering one eye.

The classy, handsome look that his clothing choice gave off was rivaled only by the far-off, half-lidded look in his ocean blue eyes that gazed lazily at nothing in particular behind his under-rimmed spectacles that sat on his nose. They seemed to lack their usual over-the-top excited spark but there was no doubt that they were America's eyes, for still visible was the twinkle of mischief that lay behind those azure irises, even though at the moment it was not being directed at anyone.

England placed the back of his hand over his mouth, astonished and flustered at the sudden fashion that America had acquired. The golden-haired nation's posture did not exactly injure his appearance. He stood in the doorway to the conference room, as though he no longer had an interest in his reasons for being here.

Now that he was inside the building, sheltered from the uncomfortable London weather, Alfred took it upon himself to remove his gloves. With one hand busy gripping his briefcase, the American had no choice but to bring his hand up to his mouth and remove the glove with his teeth.

France let out another strangled sigh/moan/disturbing sound thing and melted into his chair at the smooth actions of America, who was quite unaware of how sexy he was being. He was far to busy switching his briefcase to the other hand and pulling his opposite glove off in the same manner as before.

A bothersome decision to make his way into the room came over him and America stepped purposefully forward with the walk of a confident yet apathetic man of importance, if that was at all possible.

America was annoyed and did not feel like dealing with any of the people he normally brushed off, so instead of being his loud obnoxious self, he had resorted to keeping quiet and getting through this meeting as quickly as possible. Even though he had the look of an intelligent, witty businessman, America still lacked the ability to read the atmosphere and he walked to his seat, ignorant to the shocked and wanting gazes that settled on his figure.

With long, lazy strides, Alfred approached his seat, eyes still half-open and radiating a look of indifference. Upon reaching his chair he set the leather case on the table, slung the coat over the back of the seat, and plopped down, immediately crossing one leg over the other and pulling out his smartphone, blue eyes scanning its small screen in an uncaring way.

On his left side, Japan had to keep his eyes cast downward so as not to let this strange version of Alfred seei the excited look on his face. Already, he could see a new manga forming in his head about an obnoxious high schooler who suddenly becomes a stylish popular kid.

To the right of America sat Romano, who looked as though he would like to be anywhere else than where he was right now. It was wrong for Alfred to look and act so... good. He was most certainly not just eyeing the guy, or his damn good looking suit.

A sharp intake of breath came from behind England, and the Brit turned around to see Francis holding a hand up to his heart as he stared lovingly at the country of freedom.

"At last," he said, almost in tears, "the boy has gained a sense of fashion! This is such a touching moment!"

England could not exactly agree to it being a touching moment, but it was something he couldn't describe. What had made the American suddenly act so... non-Alfred-ish?

A hand placed heavily on his shoulder alerted him to the presence of Germany standing off to his side.

"England, you are to start the meeting off, I will show my presentation after your introductory speech," the taller country said, though his eyes darted every once in a while across the way to where America sat, deeply engaged in whatever he was doing on his mobile device.

"Right. I, umm... right, I'll get on that," England stuttered as he rose from his seat.

Standing at the front of the table, England had a good view of everyone in the room and was well aware that all of the nations were staring at Alfred, not him.

At first, when the Brit began to speak to the room of nations, he found he was a bit annoyed by the fact that America still had his nose in his phone. Attractive or not, the boy still needed to pay attention.

"If we could have all mobiles put away, now, thank you," he said, eyeing his former colony.

America gave England a look over his glasses that the Englishman could not quite read. With a small smile, America placed his phone back in his pocket and turned his eyes on England. The older country nodded, glad that he now had the American's attention.

He soon regreted it as he keeps talking, feeling those bright blue eyes on him the whole time no matter where he was looking. Whenever he glanced at the boy, Alfred was giving him this look that was letting him know that he had his full attention. Whatever England said, America heard. He was hanging on every word, eyes boring into the Brit so hard it felt uncomfortable. A blush began creeping across the back of his neck and threatening to reach his face at the attention he was receiving.

Finally, England finished the introductions, which were more of a protocol then anything else, and he gave the floor to Germany, flopping into his seat with a heavy sigh.

"Amerique certainly had his eyes on you, _ma cherie!"_ France whispered to him with a wink.

"Shut up, beardy."

~.~.~.~.

The meeting was over, thankfully, and England stood to his feet, ready to leave. All throughout the meeting, America had been a strange person, acting so unlike his usual self, England had to keep glancing at him to make sure it was really him. The boy would move so confidently, bit also so smoothly it always grabbed England's attention so hard, it took him ten minutes to realize that he was staring at America.

He had begun to leave the room when America's voice reached his ears.

"Ah, Belgium," it said, a bit deeper than his normal tone and directed at the female personifcation.

England turned around, despite the inner voice that told him not to, and saw America standing before Belgium, one hand in the pocket of his slacks and the other hand holding a slip of paper out to the nation.

"This recipe was perfect," he praised her, "but do you know what would make it even better?"

Belgium, her hands up to her chest and looking considerably flushed, only gave a slight shake of her head, unable to respond in any other way as her brain seemed to have short-circuited when the American approached.

"If you came over one day and made them for me," Alfred finished in a low drawl, holding the paper with the recipe on it between his first two fingers and handing it to her.

The girl shuddered and gave a nervous smile before taking the recipe, almost fainting when America winked as he walked away.

Neither of them noticed the pencil that Netherlands had been holding break in half in his hands.

Hungary's camera was flashing like crazy as America gathered up his things. Japan was also taking pictures, but was significantly more subtle about it, popping out of odd places to catch Alfred in the perfect pose. His manga was going to be a hit, he just knew it.

But that was not the last situation of the afternoon that England observed. As America began gathering his things, a rose wrapped in a pink cloth fell out of the inside pocket of his overcoat. The nation of freedom stared at it for a while, attempting to bring to mind why he had such an object. His blue eyes lit up as he remembered what was to be done with the flower and he picked it up, brushing his bangs out of his face as he made his way across the room.

"Ooh! I missed it! Kiku, did you get the hair toss?"

"Hai, Hungary-chan. I got it."

"Excellent!"

England rolled his eyes at the duo before watching America carefully to see where he was going and who he would give the rose to.

"Stalking, are we, Angleterre?" a snarly voice came from behind him.

England squealed (like a man) and turned around to throttle the Frenchman. That was the millionth time someone had snuck up on him and he was thoroughly annoyed with it by now.

"Will you quit that, you pain in the arse wanker!" England hissed at his rival, shaking France's neck vigorously.

"Gaaaaah-aack! What did I do? Let go of me, my hair will be ruined!"

While the two wrestled for a bit, America had made his way over to a corner of the room where Russia was sitting, talking in lowered tones to his older sister, Ukraine. But it was not those two that the American stopped to speak with. He walked straight by the and stopped at a large potted plant that was taller than he was.

"I would like to speak with you, if you don't mind," he said, seemingly talking to the plant.

The other nations looked at him strangely, wondering now if America really had lost a few marbles.

But from behind the plant, Belarus appeared, glaring at he who dared call her out of her hiding place. She had a perfect view of her brother from here and did not like the fact that she had been discovered.

Cold, violet eyes sent daggers up at the deep blue eyes that suddenly reminded her of the night sky. She pushed away the silly thought and focused once more on the boy that stood before her.

America gave a crooked smile to the girl and produced the rose that he had kept hidden behind his back.

All of the color drained from Belarus's face as the flower was presented. This was the girl who was accustomed to pulling a knife on anyone who invaded her space, unconcerned whether or not they were bigger and stronger than she was. Bit this American was holding a rose out to her and her addled mind stirred up some small memory of her asking for a flower that was dipped in a kind of love potion.

She had tried to ask England for a spell that she could use on Russia, but the scared man had locked himself in his house the moment he saw her coming. Just when she was going to kick the door in and demand he assist her in her plight to marry her brother, America had come aroiund the corner, whistling cheerfully.

After realizing why she had come, the American, who showed no sign of fear for the girl since she did not have her daggers out at this very moment, offered a poison that he knew of. It was a chemical, and required no magic whatsoever.

He had told her that most people dipped a flower in it so he offered to bring a rose to the next meeting. Annoying Russia to death was something he could never back down from. So the two had parted ways and Belarus thought nothing more of it.

But now America was standing before her, offering her the dark red rose, and she could not help but think that everybody else in the room was going to interpret this scene incorrectly.

Blood rushed to her face and stained her cheeks a delicate pink, and the nations that were gathered stared open-mouthed at the normally frightening nation. Caught with her guard down, they all saw beneath the scary facade to the real beauty that was the personification of Belarus.

"I wrapped a cloth around it. The thorns are still on the stem." America's voice pulled Belarus from her hypnotized state. "Be careful." Blue eyes showed true concern for her well-being as the girl reached out one pale hand to take the rose from him.

A miscalculation on her part caused her hand to rest on his and she froze. She gazed upwards and was met with teasing eyes behind clear lenses, almost laughing at her for he silly mistake. Something warm rushed through her body and sent a shiver down her spine.

She needed to get away from this handsome American and his charming ways. Glancing away, she turned her head to the side, wishing she could do like her brother did when he hid his fierce blush behind his scarf. Without the neck apparel, her face was visible to the whole world. She pulled the rose out of his hand and held it close.

"Th-thank you," she mumbled.

That low voice came to her again, sudden another jolt of electricity through her brain. "You're welcome..."

She dared another look into his eyes that gave off an amused expression.

"...Natalia."

The use of her human name was too much and she bolted, heading out of the meeting room and going to who knows where, as long as it was far away from that man who made her heart beat race.

When America turned around to gather his things, he did not notice, or simply ignored, the looks he was getting that ranged from 'Nice going, man!' to 'What in the world did you just do?'

As he waltzed out of the room, he stopped in front of Enghland, facing away from his former guardian.

"My jacket?" he asked.

"Ah! Yes! I'll have it by tomorrow before you leave!" England said, unable to look the boy in the face.

"Good," was the only reply he got.

And with that, America left, leaving Hungary and Japan behind to compare pictures and squeal about which ones were the best and which ones should be photoshopped with a better background, France to fake another faint, and England to wonder what the hell just happened. Russia was watching the doorway and realizing that there was more to America than he had originally thought. If the loss of his jacket brought out that side of him, there was no telling wht other personalities the blond was hiding beneath that sunny grin.

A wicked smile tugged at the big nation's lips as he buried his nose in his scarf.

Enticing.

~.~.~.~.

**Author's Note**

**I honestly cannot tell you why I decided to write this.**


End file.
